The Documentary of an Ugly Boy
by SighingDreamer
Summary: My name is Cronus Ampora, I am a fat, ugly kid who wears glasses, braces, and has an acne ridden face. My father is in a coma, my uncle -my legal guardian currently- is an alcoholic. I get bullied at school, abused at home. I have low self confidence, I am not good looking, or strong, physically or mentally. But all that is about to change. (Human AU)
**Image and Homestuck belong to their rightful owners. This is a human AU. Timeline will go from middle school to high school. Enjoy.**

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-Cronus's POV-

Chatter fills the cafeteria, preteens separate themselves into groups, out casting those who don't have similar tastes or aren't at their level of stupidity. Sneakers screech all around the slippery marble tiled floor of the socializing environment. Long rectangular shiny wooden tables line themselves in horizontal rows running from the north to the southern end where the double doored entrance is. There was yelling across the room, gossiping in each corner, and food battles across tables. This is middle school. The beginning of hormonal years where teens start to worry about how they look to the world when in reality this cruel world doesn't really give two shits unless you are a celebrity of some sort.

Everyone sticks to their own type of people most of the time, fangirls & fanboys stick with each other and their fandoms, goths stick with their fellow dark clothed friends, video game, hacker, or just plain geeks stick with each other, and stupid people stick with stupid people. Then there is also the wannabes, the athletes, popular kids, artists, etc. All in all, they are in their own little worlds. Some people are a mix of stuff, but their appearance usually labels them as only one thing. Some of these kids hide their faces behind facades of makeup, electronics, sketchbooks/journals, or even books. They prefer not to let new people into their world, almost as if afraid that a new addition could burst their bubble, the only exception is when someone of their 'kind' comes along in hopes of fitting in, in that case they'll welcome them into their group.

I, however, don't belong to any group in particular, my tastes are mixed and the type of trends I like are outdated, and my appearance...is..well. Not the best out there. It's most definitely not a Hollister model worthy body, but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate it. Without it I'm just a spirit, a ghost, invisible, stupid, nobody, type of ghost. Not that I don't already feel like one.

I am an outcast. I am extremely overweight, plump everywhere, there is a vast land of red hills known as pimples going across my face, I just got braces, and I just recently broke my black framed glasses and taped them, now they sit atop of the bridge of my nose. I know that just because I look like this does not mean I can't have friends, but in all honesty, who needs them anyways. Whatever, it's not like I care that I sit alone at lunch. It's not like I yearn to fit into a group of some sort, or even wish to have someone to converse with, just one fucking acquaintance.

It's not like I cry myself to sleep at night wondering what the hell is wrong with me. Why do they laugh? Why do they whisper when I turn my back? Is it because I'm displeasing to the eye? Most likely. I hate this. I hate my life. I hate this body yet appreciate it at the same time. I know I shouldn't complain. It could be worse. I could have been bullied, shoved into lockers, pushed into alleyways, stripped off my pants in public (school), dunked into toilet water, taunted for being overweight. Oh wait, all of that has already happened.

Well, guess it's time to think of more ways that could have made my life more miserable than it already is. I could be abused at home, that's bad right? Well maybe not that bad since that also happens thanks to my uncle.

"Hey fatass, I'm jealous, your boobs are much bigger than mine will ever be." cackles a voice. The Beyonce look-alike wannabe sashays her way across the hall I was walking through to get to my locker- over to me, moving her nonexistent hips to get attention from the boys passing by. A brunette boy chuckles as he walks over as well. I bite the inside of my cheek. "W-well, atleast I have curves. Unlike some people." I say giving her this up and down look as if inspecting her. If you thought this was a story about an emo kid who wants to end his life or somethin' like that then you were terribly wrong. I may be plump and weak now physically but I try to fight back the best I can. Which in all honesty, isn't very helpful or effective.

The girl flips her heather colored hair over her shoulder and narrows her eyes, popping a sharp hip to the side, but keeps her mouth shut. "Shut the fuck up you little bitch." the boy snaps in a harsh tone. I clench my jaw. "Wwow, your lack of vocabulary hasn't improved much since last year has it?" I know, I have the worst combats. But knowin' someone's weakness always works to your advantage. "No wwonder your daddy left you, he has the dumbest kid-" a blow hits me hard across my left cheek. Well it works most times, it might not save you from some ass kicking but at least you hit them hard inside.

I turn my head only to catch sight of another fist before it hits my rectangular glasses and they push up my nose with a crack, the impact rasps my skin causing it to bleed. Before I know what is happening I am knocked to the ground.

The air is taken out of my stomach, I gasp in pain. I can't see it, but I know more people have gathered around me because it is only a matter of seconds before about a dozen pairs of feet begin hitting me in every direction possible.

I curl up into a fetus position, there is not much I can do. I am outnumbered greatly. Tears prick at the corner of my eyes as I am stomped on, cursed at, spat on.

 _What am I doing here?_

I ask myself that question daily.

 _Why am I like this?_

Tears threaten to spill over, I have tried to be strong for far too long.

 _I am disgusted of myself, of this big fat ugly body, of this life._

Maybe I am an emo kid. But even they look beautiful in their own dark way, though they don't know this. I don't though, I am horrendous.

 _I am such a freak._

 _Don't cry. Don't cry._

"Look! The meatball is crying!" "Awe, do you want your mama?" "No one is coming to save you sweat heart! Hahahaha!" they erupt into laughter. I lie there, letting them hit me in my curled up position as I attempt to block my face. I fail miserably. I don't recall ever harming someone in such a way that would cause them to treat me like this. Why, am I always alone? Why do people run away when given the chance? If only someone could just give me a chance, stop, and take a minute to look at _me,_ not judge me by my appearance, but actually look, at the person crying inside. The person who keeps on trying to reach out, past the cage bars of my body and out into the world to find someone, anyone, who understands me. The way I think. The way I am. If only people would be so fair to take a look closer, inside.

But that is just wishful thinking. I must now snap back into the heart twisting reality.

Someone yanks my shaggy black hair up, lifting my face -I don't know who due to my teary blurry vision- and slaps me across the face, knocking my cracked glasses off. My vision clears just a bit. Just in time to see a sneaker stomp on the black framed glasses my father gave me before he went into a coma. They could have been fixed in their state from before, but now they are just mere fragments, symbols of a once almost happy past.

"Blindass, look at me." I don't turn my head. Tears stream down my cheeks in warm salty rivers. My violet eyes are glued on the pieces of black plastic and glass lying on the ground. The colorless memories flash through my head, replaying over and over like a record player. "I said look at me you freak!"

Another slap across my right cheek turns my head in the direction of a new boy. The blonde's lips are curled into a snarl, but I see a flicker of evil pleasure pass in his dark, soulless eyes. I am begging at him with my eyes to stop, though I know he won't.

I have lost all hope.

I just want to pass out already, it would save me at least some pain.

My name is Cronus Ampora, I am a fat, ugly kid who wears glasses, braces, and has an acne ridden face. My father is in a coma, my uncle -my legal guardian currently- is an alcoholic. I get bullied at school, abused at home. I am not good looking, or strong, physically or mentally. But all that is about to change. I am tired of being put down by people, I'll show all of them who Cronus Ampora really is. All this change will start when I experience an emotion by the name of love for the first time.

I, however, do not know this yet.

...

I stagger through one of the huge doors of the entrance to the mansion I live in. At least I don't have to worry about financial issues. The one thing I have left is my wealth, which is considered pretty sad that that's all I have left for most people, but I am grateful for this one thing. As I limp my way through the hallway, I hope my feet aren't making too much noise as they drag themselves across the shiny wooden floorboards. A huge grand staircase is in view straight ahead. Just a flight up the stairs and I'll be close to the safe zone of my room, which I can lock.

But as fate would have it, no such luck. I hear loud steps stumbling from one of the halls. I turn my head to the right in horror as I stare at the doorless archway leading to a hallway where the noise is coming from. As best as I can in my injured & overweight state, I try to hurry my way up the stairs before _he_ finds me. He'll beat me twice as hard if he takes a look at how weak I was earlier, its evidence marked on my face and limbs.

 _Hurry. Don't look back! Don't look back!_

"Cronus~ is that you my boy?" slurs a rough voice. He has definitely been drinking his problems away. What problems I don't know.

I'm almost there. Just a few more steps.

My heart beat drums rapidly, it feels like it will fly out of my chest. I limp my way up the last steps. "Cah-ronus~." _Just a few yards away from my bedroom door_.

A dark chuckle echoes around the empty ballroom. For a drunk man he is really good at running up a staircase.

"Just where do you think you're going?" he mutters darkly. He is right behind me.

I run as fast as my injured chubby legs can carry me. _Come on! Just a few more steps an you'll get ther-_ my heart sinks into my stomach as a hand grabs me by the collar and pulls me back.

The force is so strong that it sends me tripping and tumbling backwards. I knock right into his chest with my back. My weight knocks him backwards. Wait a second, if I knocked him backwards- a yell erupts the air. I manage to fall forward on my knees, saving myself, but not him. I look back and watch as my uncle falls down the steps. He finally lands at the foot of the staircase, passed out.

I don't realize I am panting furiously, sweat covers me like a sheet of thick moist cloth all around my body. I sit there for a moment trying to catch my breath, wheezing and coughing for a good four minutes. Thankfully, Ociano -my uncle- doesn't wake up just yet. I slowly get up, my limbs scream in protest but I force my self to walk down the hallway. I sigh in relief as my hand reaches the golden door handle leading to the 'safe zone'. I twist and open, I get inside hurriedly as I hear shuffling coming from somewhere down the stairs. I close the door -well slam it- shut, then lock it with all seven locks I payed to have done for me on the door.

...

Tears. Stupid useless tears rush down my face as I look at myself in pure self loathe in my bathroom mirror. This is the first time I get a full view at what they did to me. I have two black eyes, ugly purple bruises all over my face and under the cloth of my stretchy black pants on my legs, and under the extra sized violet long sleeved shirt on my arms. There is dry blood on the bridge of my nose. There is a huge dry scar on my forehead. My puffy violet eyes stare back at me with misery filling those weird amethyst orbs of mine. I hate myself. My body, my mental state of mind, my low self esteem. In this moment I truly believe that I'll never be able to look in the mirror and see something I love.

"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" I yell at my hideous reflection. "I am so done with this. So done-" It hits me then. The pain I am feeling is mostly my fault. I haven't made any attempts to change my life style in the past years. I still consume large amounts of food out of stress, I don't try to exercise or practice martial arts to become stronger, I gave up on trying in school so long ago. I gave up on having any sort of friendship, I gave up on everything, even people, hope. The only thing left to give up is my life, but I am a coward, I can't face death, but I feel that I would be more of a coward if I attempted to escape all my problems and responsibilities by committing suicide.

I am worthless piece of shit who whines his ass off all day instead of actually trying to do something. I never thought I could get any more lame, but I, Cronus Ampora succeeded in doing so. I am the biggest of fools out there.

The worst thing is, I feel that I will never be able to fully change even if I try.

...

My room is huge, the size of an apartment complex. Currently, I am sitting on a black leather couch stuffing my face with snacks that I keep hidden under my bed. I can do nothing more than sit there and watch my favorite greaser movies flashing across the flat screen TV. I sit there wishing I could be as cool as they are with their leather jackets, glossy combed back hair, and cigarettes that dangle in their fingers. I think of what a different life I would have if I was a greaser, riding a motorcycle, getting into and winning fights or 'rumbles'. If I could have their confidence, their self esteem, what a great world that would be for me. I look down at the bag of chips. My look intensifies into a full blown glare. I shove the bag aside, it lands somewhere nearby, I hear a few crunches from what I assume was the spilling of the bag's contents. Fuck this.

It is time I change. Changing your ways is extremely hard. It takes dedication and motivation. I got it at the right time. His name is Kankri Vantas. I just haven't met him yet.

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 **Please excuse the OOCness, his attitude will change in the next few chapters to the normal one(except for the lovestruck part). If you found this bad feel free to leave and look for something that fits your tastes, if you think it needs improvement feel free to leave constructive criticism so that I can improve the story or the writing(or both), if you like it then favorite, follow it, or leave a comment. If you don't, that's alright, thank you for spending some of your time on reading this story.**


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